


Understanding

by MikailaT



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon deviation, F/F, Jaina needs a hug, blue lizard is not valid and doesn't deserve rights, done at the request of a discord mutual, fuck kalec, like she needs it yesterday, seeking vengeance, sylvanas also needs a hug, vengeance queens, wod aint happenin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-22 23:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikailaT/pseuds/MikailaT
Summary: During the trial of Garrosh, Sylvanas finds a kindred spirit in the young mage who lost everything at the hands of the brute.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 71
Kudos: 362





	1. Chapter 1

To say that Sylvanas was angry was to say the Barrens of Kalimdor were warm. Her footsteps echoed through the empty corridor that seemed to be drained of all light and warmth as she passed through it. The banshee queen could barely contain the dark power that made up her undead being, her metal-clad hand clenching in rage.

Sylvanas and the collective leaders of the Alliance and the Horde were still going through the farce of a trial for Garrosh. Perhaps the most unnecessary thing to be happening in all of Azeroth. Everyone knew what Hellscream had done. Everyone knew he was too dangerous to stay alive even if they wouldn't admit it. Yet still, their ingenious collective leadership insisted on going through this pointless 'due process'. They all were worried about not seeming dishonorable for condemning a monster to death on the spot so they felt the need to drag this out for countless weeks.

Sylvanas continued to seethe. What worthless cowards they were. If it were up to her, Garrosh would have felt her black arrow pierce his skull before his body would be thrown to the desert and left for the buzzards. Sadly, however, it was not up to her. It seemed that all of Azeroth was determined to leave very little in this world up to her.

The sound of distant voices brought Sylvanas out from her rage-filled introspection. Her elven ears flicked in the direction of the source. The voices were far and faint but clearly in conflict with each other. Two world leaders arguing about what was 'right' no doubt. Still, something about it made Sylvanas curious. She followed the source of noise, her pace quickened yet her steps now silent as death. She didn't wish to reveal her presence too soon when she reached her destination. 

"...have to let it go."

"This isn't the kind of thing you can just 'let go' of!"

Sylvanas came close enough that she could recognize the voices. The first being the voice of Kalecgos, the blue aspect dragon that she aided with the defeat of Dar'Khan years ago. The second belonging the Jaina Proudmoore, a woman she knew of very well despite their limited interaction with each other. It was no secret that Garrosh's attack on Theramore had caused Jaina a great deal of pain, yet so few people seemed to care. Not even her own allies. Kalecgos among them being such an example. 

Sylvanas remained hidden just around the corner as she continued to listen.

"You are letting your anger consume you Jaina," Kalec said, typical dragon condescension clear in his voice. "This is a sickness. The Jaina Proudmoore I knew would never call for the destruction of an entire city for the actions of one man."

"Do not pretend the Horde is blameless in its crimes Kalec!" Jaina shot back. "I did what I knew to be right!" 

"... Arthas did what he thought to be right in Stratholme. And even then he did not act with such hatred as you."

Sylvanas' crimson eyes were alight with renewed rage. The pompous bastard was comparing Lady Proudmoore of all people to Arthas. The accusation filled the banshee with a burning fury that even surprised herself. Her sudden confusion as to why she honestly cared about any of this was the only thing keeping her from storming into the room and seizing Kalec by the throat. Thus, she remained hidden and listened further.

For a moment neither of them spoke. ".... So what? Am I just to just smile and pretend that nothing is wrong?" Jaina said, doing her best to hold back the sob building in her throat. "Is all the pain I'm feeling just evidence to you that I'm becoming a monster?"

"Jaina," Kalec said softly. "I understand the pain you're feeling. Remember that I once lost someone close to me too.”

The room the two were in was suddenly filled with the sound of dark bitter laughter. They both turned to the doorway to see a pair of burning red eyes looking back at them as Sylvanas decided to reveal herself. She stepped towards the two, the chamber filling with darkness in her wake.

"How cute of you, little wyrm," Sylvanas said, her voice rich with venom and disdain. "-to pretend you know anything of pain."

Kalec clearly caught off guard, took a moment to collect himself, standing high while attempting badly to not appear that he was posturing. "Lady Sylvanas," he stated as calmly as he could. "This is a private matter that does not concern you."

Sylvanas looked from the drake over to Jaina. The mage looked shocked and rather displeased to see her there. What caught Sylvanas' attention however, was the faint streaks of tears that lined Proudmoore's cheeks. The sight caused the rage inside her to swell once more.

"Perhaps not," she replied, turning back to Kalec. "But even I see no reason to sit idly by as you cause Lady Proudmoore even more undeserved grief."

"You have no ri-"

"You dragons see yourselves as so enlightened and evolved," Sylvanas interjected, pacing before Kalec, almost like a predator. "Yet what I heard just now just proves to me just how green you really are."

".... Wait, you mean li-"

"No, not literally you moron. As in you're a welp. A child who thinks he understands how the world works but, in the end, just makes it clear to everyone that he is simply ignorant."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Kalec shot back, anger seeping into his voice.

"I know you'd have to be a fool to think that you could possibly understand the kind of pain that Lady Proudmoore has endured."

"I have suffered pain as well. I know what loss is, la-"

"Yes yes, Aveena. We all know how much you adored your little pet human." Sylvanas said dismissively. "But is losing one person truly comparable to losing everything?"

Sylvanas stepped forward, the growing darkness in the room making her burning gaze appear all the brighter. The hairs on Kalec's neck bristled as he reflexively took a step back.

"Do you truly know what it's like to fight tooth and nail for everything you know, everything you stand for, to give the fight everything you have, only to lose it all anyway? To see as everything and everyone you've ever loved gets taken away by some power-hungry man child? And above all, being forced to live to see the ashes of everything you fought for? To not only lose everything but not even be given the release of death and instead must bear the pain?"

Kalec said nothing. He couldn't even bring himself to meet Sylvanas' gaze, even as she stood inches away from her.

"I thought not," Sylvanas noted plainly. "Perhaps now you will think twice before telling such a victim how to feel."

In a motion too quick to see, Sylvanas then grabbed Kalec by the collar and pulled down, forcing him to meet her burning eyes.

"And if I ever catch you comparing her to that monster Arthas again, I will show you what a true monster is, and then you just might understand her pain."

With her piece said, Sylvanas threw Kalec urgently against the wall before turning on her heel and leaving the room. She stepped lightly, feeling slightly alleviated by her actions. Still, the catharsis was also muddled with confusion at her own actions. Why did she just stick her neck out for a member of the Alliance?

"Wait!"

Sylvanas turned her head slightly to see that Jaina was following after her. The mage's hand planted firmly on her pauldron as if to keep her from leaving. Sylvanas turned fully to face Jaina, the younger woman's face riddled with confusion.

"Why did you do that?"

Sylvanas said nothing, a single arched brow asking Proudmoore to elaborate.

"Why did you... defend me?" Jaina asked. "What game are you playing?"

Sylvanas brought her gaze back to the floor. The question she was asking herself not a moment ago. A question she still hadn't an answer for.

"...Well!? Answer me!"

"... I'm... not sure," Sylvanas admitted. "Perhaps I am just tired of suffering through the self-righteous waffling of fools. Perhaps I'm just one of the few here who understand that Hellscream has to die. Perhaps..." she was silent, her tone far different than it had been with Kalec just before.

"Perhaps I feel that you deserve better than to have your pain belittled like that," Sylvanas said, bringing her gaze back up.

Jaina's eyes widened at that. Her deep blue eyes were rife with emotion and conflict.

"It's frustrating, is it not?" Sylvanas asked. "To suffer such complete loss and to have everyone you thought to be your ally tell you that you are wrong for seeking justice? They're so obsessed about doing things honorably that in the end, their sanctimony is what allows evil to thrive. It's a grief I'm quite familiar with, and one I know that you don't deserve to suffer along with everything else."

Jaina looked at Sylvanas with bewilderment before she collected herself. She assumed the cold visage that many horde champions had gazed upon before their imminent demise. "Am I to believe that you leaped to my defense out of the kindness in your heart, banshee? You care not that I hoped to destroy the entire Horde?" she asked disbelievingly

Sylvanas shrugged. "Perhaps it would be for the best. I have no special love for the Horde that has treated me and my Forsaken with contempt since the beginning. I aligned with them to secure a future for my people. Of course under Hellscream's reign, that security was all but dissolved."

Jaina's cold demeanor melted slightly at Sylvanas' admission. 

"I told Garrosh that attacking Theramore could bring the doom of the Horde." Sylvanas continued. "Of course, even I couldn't have predicted that doom would come in the form of the Alliance's esteemed peacemaker." A somewhat playful smile spread across her face. "Still, better than dying to Wrynn."

Jaina blinked, unsure what to make of that remark. Sylvanas found her loss for words amusing before she turned to leave once more. 

"Hold on," Jaina said, keeping her grip on Sylvanas' pauldron.

The banshee stopped. "Yes?"

"... Is there anywhere we can go to.... talk?"

"Talk about what?"

"... something we both understand."

Sylvanas was silent but gave Jaina an empathetic look.

"I believe I know a place."


	2. Chapter 2

There was a definite chill in the air within the Ghostlands. There always was. An eerie mist seemed to forever lick the edges of the land, though it did little to conceal the corruption that had seeped into it. Blighted ground, twisted decaying trees and a perpetual bitter wind. Low, tortured moaning from the ghosts of the lands namesake. This place was marked by the Scourge. Deeply so. It was enough to make lesser people turn and run with fear.

And for whatever reason, it is where Sylvanas chose to have this conversation.

"This place?" Jaina asked as they stepped out of the portal. "Really?"

"Well you did ask me to pick the location," Sylvanas said plainly. "Here we have less of a chance of being interrupted. Unless you have a better location in mind."

Jaina grimaced, but said nothing. She followed behind Sylvanas as she led them down the blighted path. Internally, the mage worried if she was walking right into a trap. It was a worry that grew ever stronger when she spotted twisted specters eyeing them from just behind the trees.

Banshees

"Pay them no mind," Sylvanas assured her. "They shall do you no harm as long as you're with me."

Despite her reasoning, Jaina did not immediately take her eyes off of the banshees. Only after a solid minute of walking and seeing that the ghosts had made no move to attack her did she feel confident enough to look to Sylvanas instead of them. It was then that the tortured moaning turned into something else. Something less horrifically unpleasant and more... melodic.

A song?

Jaina's attempted to name the tune in her head but didn't recognize it from the bars.

"What is that they're singing?" Jaina asked as they began to climb a steep hill.

"It is their lament," Sylvanas answered. "A song dedicated to all that we lost that accursed day. All that he took from us."

Sylvanas and Jaina had made it to the top of the hill. It was then that the mage could see the full extent of the damage the land had faced. Plants and wildlife forever scarred with corruption. Ghouls wandering randomly without direction. Countless banshees who all joined to singe the lament, spreading it across the expanse of the land.

"... It's horrible..." Jaina whispered.

"Indeed," Sylvanas agreed. She leaned against the pillar of a ruined archway as she fixed her scarlet gaze onto Jaina. "So, you said you wanted to talk?"

Jaina blinked as if just remembering the reason they had even come here. "... Yes... I suppose I was mostly curious as to how well we .... understand each other."

A cynical smirk crept onto Sylvanas' lips. "Did you wish to compare notes on what we've endured Lady Proudmoore?"

Jaina clenched her staff. She felt off balance. Something she grew to loathe lately. These days she was accustomed to feeling varying degrees of rage and sorrow. This was the first time in a long while that she felt... awkward.

"Well... I've heard general information about the fall of Quel'thalas, but no details. No one involved seemed to want to talk about it."

"Can you blame them?"

"... No."

Sylvanas stepped from the column she leaned against before looking out at the ruined expanse of her homeland.

"Arthas' attack caught us unprepared. By the time I was able to muster the first counterattack, he had already raised an army of our outlying villages. I pressed him. Halted his assault as best I could. Used every resource I had at my disposal to slow him down and rally our forces. After a while, it seemed as if we would prevail. If we dug our heels in and held our ground we could wear him out."

Sylvanas' hands clenched, the clawed ends of the gauntlets digging into her palm as she seemed to bristle with dark power. A visual tell of the rage that brimmed just beneath the surface.

"And then we were betrayed. A power-hungry mage, Dar'Khan, compromised the elf gate. Our final defense was undone. Our forces were thinned too great. Every runner I sent to Silvermoon slaughtered before they could reach it. My rangers were spent. I was disarmed and battered to near death before Arthas finally had the nerve to face me himself. He hated me for what a nuisance my defense was. Because I dared to defy him, he refused to give me the peace of death. Not even when his blade was already buried in my chest."  
She shook with renewed anger before quelling it, if ever so slightly, and turned to face Jaina again. The mages' face a mixture of shock and horror.

"The rest, you can see for yourself," Sylvanas finished. Crossing her arms, she stood silently and awaited Jaina's response.

"... I'm sorry," Jaina said finally.

Sylvanas' brow furrowed, confusion etched in her expression. "What could   
you possibly have to be sorry for?"

"Arthas. All the things he's done. The death and suffering he's caused," Jaina paused, swallowing hard as she looked down. "It wouldn't have happened if I had stopped him."

Sylvanas shook her head a soft chuckle escaping her throat. "Silly little mage. You have nothing to apologize for. Menethil's actions were his own. He alone carries the blame."

"You.... you don't resent me for not stopping him?" Jaina asked incredulously.

"Do you resent me for not stopping Garrosh?" Sylvanas asked in return.  
Jaina opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. The question compelled her to stop and think. Did she resent Sylvanas? It didn't feel like she did, but why?

After a moment she replied. "... You said you warned Garrosh against attacking Theramore. Does that mean you didn't help him?"

"Indeed not," Sylvanas confirmed. "Not me nor any of my Forsaken had a role to play in his ludicrous campaign. Hellscream didn't trust any of us. Kept me out of the loop in many of his decisions while sending my people on one suicide mission after another."

Jaina dwelled on the information. It was no secret that Sylvanas was considered the least trustworthy of the Horde Leaders, especially after the fiasco at the Wrathgate. In spite of that, however, she had no part to play in perhaps the Horde's greatest atrocity since the first war.

Jaina's entire body began to shake as memories of that fateful day flooded back to the forefront of her mind. The initial assault, the treacherous Songweaver. Rhonin having saved her life before succumbing to the mana bomb. Anger and sorrow crashed through her like a violent wave against a rocky shore. 

"W-We hadn't expected the attack," Jaina struggled to say without bursting into tears. "O-Our northern gate was weakened an-an-" Jaina was stopped when she felt a heavy hand press on her shoulder. Without her even noticing, Sylvanas cleared the distance between them, fixing her with an even gaze."

"You needn't explain yourself to me Lady Proudmoore. Not now. Not when the wound is still fresh." Sylvanas withdrew her hand, placing it on her hip. "I didn't bring you here to drill you for information, or to tell you to let go of your anger and forgive the Horde. I simply brought you here to assure you that I understand your suffering, and simply bearing that pain does not make you a monster."

Jaina continued to fight back tears before she dared to speak again. ".....And now what?" Jaina asked. "You understand what it's like to have everything taken from you. You've made that perfectly clear. So tell me, what must I do? What is next for me when I have nothing left?"

Sylvanas frowned, crossing her arms as she gave the question some thought. "I suppose, like myself, you will have to start anew. It will be difficult, for certain. Any lesser being would likely give up and vanish into the hopeless pit they had found themselves in. You, however, are not a lesser being, Lady Proudmoore. You are strong. Stronger now than I have ever seen you before."

"... Funny, I don't feel particularly strong right now," Jaina said in a tone that one could only describe as pitiful. "Not like I do on the battlefield."

Jaina's remark won a small yet fond smirk from Sylvanas. "You've certainly mastered the rage from your experience. Rage is an excellent motivator for certain. Of course, there's also sorrow. Something you can only push to the back of your mind in the heat of battle. Otherwise, it creeps right back to the front, when you cannot distract yourself. In those moments you feel meager... helpless."

Ocean blue eyes began to glisten with unshed tears as Jaina's gaze became fixed with Sylvanas'. "... You truly understand."

"I do," Sylvanas nodded.

Without warning, Jaina wrapped her arms around Sylvanas and pulled her into a hug, softly weeping against the banshee's shoulder.

Sylvanas' eyes were wide with shock. The reality of the situation took a moment to sink in. Someone was hugging her. Her. Sylvanas Windrunner. Banshee Queen of the Forsaken. An act most would consider equal to placing your hand in a pile of filth. It was nothing short of baffling to think that anyone, much less Jaina Proudmoore would willingly embrace an undead. Not only that, but considering how the mage tightened her grip and buried her face deeper in the spot of bare skin between Sylvanas' neck and pauldron, she seemed to find some degree of comfort in it.

Sylvanas simply stood there, dumbfounded and unsure as to what to actually do. Her hands trembled slightly as a voice in the back of her mind urged her to return the embrace. The notion would ordinarily be discarded as ridiculous under any other circumstances, yet this felt different. This wasn't the act of someone with misplaced affection or attempting to appeal to her humanity. This was the act of a soul in pain desperately seeking comfort by one of the few in all of Azeroth who could truly understand her pain.

After what felt like an eternity of internal debate, Sylvanas carefully wrapped her own arms around Jaina. The soft fabric of the Kirin Tor robes shifted in her grasp as the mage's shoulders shook with heavy sobs. The act felt strange to her. Alien. Evidence that her experience with such affection was a lifetime ago. Nevertheless, she continued to embrace Jaina. 

They simply held each other, saying nothing. There was nothing to say. Jaina didn't need to hear empty words of comfort. She simply needed this. This moment. This unexpected kindred spirit. Thus, she continued to hold Sylvanas as the soft melody of the banshee's mournful song still echoed through the lands. 

Neither woman was sure how long it had been before they had finally withdrawn from the embrace. At some point that had found themselves on the ground when Jaina's legs grew tired of standing. As such, they had ended up sitting beside each other on a soft patch of grass they’ve happened to stand upon as Jaina took the time to reflect on what she had just done. 

"... Thank you," Jaina said, finally breaking the silence. Her voice was slightly raspy from her earlier crying, making her sound more tired than she actually was. "... I... hadn't realized how badly I needed that. A little embarrassing really."

Sylvanas simply shrugged. "I can't imagine that a single hug could have possibly taken all of your pain away, but I suppose whatever small comfort it gave you makes it worthwhile." Sylvanas brought herself back on her feet, then without entirely knowing why, she extended a hand to help Jaina up as well. The mage took it and hoisted herself to her feet, taking a moment to be close to Sylvanas again before retreating to a less personal space. 

"So... now what?" Jaina asked her tone once again awkward.

"I suppose we both go our separate ways again. Return to our duties, deal with our personal torments and hope this accursed farce of a trial goes by as quickly as possible.” 

Jaina grimaced as the thought of being in the same room as Garrosh again filled her with disgust. "Ugh... why do the others waste our time with this? Why not just kill the monster and be done with it?"

"As I said; destructive sanctimony. Respectability politics take the place of actual decision making, allowing people like Hellscream to cause as much damage as they can because everyone else is more concerned about appearing like the bigger person.”

Jaina was silent for a moment as a thought churned in her head. A thought turned into an idea, and an idea turned into a realization. "... We could kill him."

"Perhaps," Sylvanas agreed. "If the other leaders could be bothered to reach a damn verdi-" 

"No, I mean WE could kill him," Jaina corrected. "You and I. Together."

Sylvanas blinked. "That's a rather forward proposal." 

"Come on, think about it!" Jaina said, her hands grasping at Sylvanas' shoulders. "You and I know better than anyone what kind of destruction people like Garrosh can cause if left alive. We both know he doesn't deserve to live. Either one of us could kill him. Together, it won't even be a challenge!"

"And what of the other Alliance and Horde leaders who would most certainly take issue with the two of us taking justice into our own hands."

"We can do it discreetly," Jaina offered. "Leave no trace. Perhaps make it look like an accident. No one will ever know."

"Sylvanas pursed her lips as she considered the idea. "It's still risky. If they suspect my involvement-"

"They won't. I promise you," Jaina replied. "I know it's risky, but putting an end to threats like Garrosh once and for all is worth it."

"As well as avenging Theramore, I take it?"

"... That is a contributing motivator, yes," Jaina admitted.

Sylvanas was quiet for a moment as she pondered the proposal before looking back at Jaina and giving her something of a devilish grin.

"Very well, Lady Proudmoore. Let us get your vengeance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody order a pair of vengeance queens?


	3. Chapter 3

Jaina gently tapped the hardwood of the table as she sat and waited. It was not often that she was the one waiting on other people given her reputation of running late. It was intentional of course. She and Sylvanas agreed that leaving their obligations to convene at the agreed meeting point at the same time would have attracted unwanted attention from the other world leaders. Even if it was some small out of the way inn where they were highly unlikely to be discovered together. What they were planning was too delicate and dangerous to risk garnering suspicion.

So Jaina waited for her future partner in crime. She didn’t mind. Sylvanas was a very busy woman these days. Jaina, on the other hand, was not as busy as she used to be. Not since…

She was brought out of her melancholy by a soft yet firm rapping at the door. The knocks matched the pattern they agreed on prior to this meeting. Lifting a hand, Jaina sent a flow of arcane through her fingertips, unraveling the enchantment she placed on the door’s lock. When she did, Sylvanas Windrunner stepped through the door, shutting it quickly behind her.

“You made sure you weren’t followed?” Jaina asked.

“Don’t insult me,” Sylvanas retorted, though there was no genuine bitterness in her voice. She took a seat at the table across from Jaina. Reaching into her cloak, she pulled out a small box and placed it upon the table.

Jaina couldn’t help but notice how swift and graceful the motion was. Even for something as simple as taking something out of one’s pocket involved at least a little fumbling from members of the other races. Yet with Sylvanas, it was an act made as smoothly as her drawing an arrow from her quiver.

True this was the case with many elves, but with Sylvanas it seemed all the more captivating. As undead, most of the Forsaken seemed to move rather awkwardly, to say the least. It was as if they weren’t accustomed to inhabiting their own bodies. With Sylvanas and her dark rangers, however, they appeared to move with the same fluidity and accuracy as they did in life, or at least enough so that a human like Jaina couldn’t tell the difference.

It was something that Jaina hadn’t noticed or thought of before. As they began to get to know each other, she recalled many instances like that. Before then, she only knew Sylvanas as the Banshee Queen. The ruthless leader of Arthas’ countless victims. Before this whole trial business, she hadn’t noticed the surprising level of grace in her motions, or the utter lack of rot or decay upon her body, or the apparent softness of her skin. Even with the seriousness of what they were planning together, Jaina couldn’t help but dwell on these revelations.

“Proudmoore!” Sylvanas called, snapping Jaina out of her self induced trance.

“Yes! Sorry! I… have a lot on my mind,” Jaina apologized.

“No doubt,” Sylvanas said. If she had noticed Jaina all but ogling her, she said nothing about it beyond that.

Jaina cleared her throat. “So, I see you have it then.”

“Of course,” Sylvanas nodded, opening the box. From within, she pulled a small vial containing luminescent purple liquid. She placed it on Jaina’s side of the table, allowing the mage to inspect it.

“The crowning achievement of my apothecaries,” Sylvanas said, a hint of pride in her voice. “This poison is extremely potent, quick to work, and most importantly, untraceable. A few drops of this onto Hellscream’s food and he will be dead on the floor before anyone realizes what has happened.”

Jaina held the vial in her hand, looking at it closely as she listened to Sylvanas. “So long as there are no Forsaken found anywhere near Garrosh’s cell at the time of his death, the other leaders will have no way of pinning the crime on you.”

“Which is where the powerful mage with a particular talent for invisibility comes into play,” Sylvanas added with a wicked grin. “You poison the food at any point between the jail kitchen and his cell, there won’t be any guards skilled enough to see through your veil. And there certainly won’t be anyone among the Alliance or Horde bold enough to accuse you of such an underhanded tactic, despite your new reputation.”

Jaina pursed her lips as she thought over the plan. “Hellscream dies for his crimes, we both have deniability.”

“Vengeance is served,” Sylvanas finished.

Jaina narrowed her eyes at the vial, her mouth turning into a thin line. Sylvanas looked at her carefully, noticing the distinct lack of satisfaction on her face. “Is there a problem?”

Jaina looked from the vial to Sylvanas and sighed. Her mind struggled to properly articulate what about this was specifically bothering her. “... It’s a good plan,” Jaina assured her. “It’s simple, efficient and leaves little room for error. It’s just…”

“It’s too quick and painless for you,” Sylvanas guessed. “It’s not enough for Garrosh to die for what he’s done to you. He has to suffer for it. He needs to spend his last moments in agony, but most importantly, he needs to know it was you who brought about his end.”

Jaina blinked, utterly taken aback by how… accurate Sylvanas’ deduction was. She hung her head so low it almost touched the table. “... It’s true,” she admitted. “It’s horrible and perhaps borderline evil, but it’s true. I don’t think I’ll be satisfied unless I know Garrosh dies horrifically.”

The inn room was deathly quiet for a moment.

It was then that Sylvanas reached inside the small box and pulled out a second vial. “Then it’s a good thing that I brought this.”

Jaina lifted her head slightly to see the second vial. This one contained a sickly green glow to it as opposed to the cool purple of the first one.

“This one is a simple but powerful paralysis venom I concocted a few years ago,” Sylvanas explained, her grin spreading to reveal her fangs. “It will render the victim completely immobile, but their pain receptors will remain unaffected barring the pain the venom provides. Still, such pain can be easily eclipsed by whatever suffering you wish to inflict upon the victim yourself. The venom will ensure that all they can do is scream in agony.”

Jaina’s eyes widened as she kept them fixed on the second potion. Garrosh immobile and helpless before her as she could force him to endure every ounce of suffering he inflicted on to all of Azeroth. The more she thought about it, the more tantalizing the option became. She had to force herself from dwelling on the fantasy for too long and look back at Sylvanas.

“And you know that this venom works?” Jaina asked, trying not to let on how much the option of using the venom resonated with her. “You used it before?”

The almost sinister smile on Sylvanas’ faltered as she averted her crimson gaze. “Once… against Arthas.”

“Ah,” Jaina said, trying to reserve her disappointment. “I take it that didn’t go well?”

“He had fallen into a trap I laid out and I had him within my grasp,” Sylvanas’ clawed gauntlets balled into a fist as she recalled the day in question. “... But I wanted to finish him slowly. I gave his loyalists time to catch us and rescue him. If I had ended him quickly, I could have saved all of Azeroth a great deal of trouble.”

“So then, why do you present this venom to me if you know how risky this operation is?” Jaina asked.

Sylvanas returned her gaze to Jaina, her crimson eyes smoldering with conviction. “Because this vengeance is yours. I wish to do this the way you desire. If you wish to see Garrosh suffer as he dies, I will do everything in my power to make that wish a reality for you.”

Jaina was quiet for a moment. In the years she knew of Sylvanas, she had always pitied her to an extent, as she did with all of Arthas’ victims. As they came to know each other however, that feeling of pity became more… personal. Sylvanas had been where Jaina was at the moment. Hurting and angry and hungry for vengeance. Only Sylvanas never got such justice, not really. She wasn’t present in Northrend when Arthas was finally slain. Every attempt at the revenge she deserved was thwarted one way or another.

And here she was, vowing to help Jaina achieve the vengeance that she never could.

Jaina felt something flutter in her chest as she thought about that. A fluttering that became increasingly hard to ignore.

“... I see,” Jaina said finally. “Well… I suppose I will need some time to consider these options.”

Sylvanas frowned at Jaina’s response. “You realize we agreed to this plan with the intent to end Hellscream’s life quickly and decisively,” she remarked.

“Yes, I know. Don’t worry,” Jaina assured her. “I don’t intend to take as long to decide as the trial appears to be. I just need a day or so to consider a viable plan that allows us to utilize the venom. If I cannot concoct such a plan, then we shall go with the poison.”

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes at Jaina before nodding in concession. “Very well.” With that, Sylvanas pulled a scroll from her other cloak pocket. She unfurled the parchment to reveal it was a map of Azeroth. Taking a quill on the table, she marked a spot on the map, just outside the border of Lorderon. “There’s an abandoned village there. We will reconvene there in two day’s time. You would be wise to make your decision before then.”

Jaina almost flinched by how abruptly Sylvanas stood up from the table and made her way back to the door. “Wait!” Jaina called out before she could stop herself.

Sylvanas stopped just shy of the door. She turned to look back at Jaina, expression slightly vexed yet nonetheless curious.

Jaina was silent. Her mind scrambled for an excuse for her sudden outburst. Or perhaps more accurately, an excuse to keep Sylvanas here for a little longer. “I… I spoke to Vereesa not long ago,” Jaina said finally. “She… she is suffering from what happened in Theramore.”

The expression that passed Sylvanas’ face was too fleeting to put down before she hung her head low, the shadow of her hood concealing most of her face. “I imagine she is.”

It was no secret that Vereesa lost her beloved husband Rhonin in the mana bomb. This was twice now, that Sylvanas’ Little Moon lost something dear to her at the hands of a power-hungry tyrant. Her sorrow was palpable these days.

“I… I was wondering if she could be… involved in this,” Jaina suggested. “If either of us deserves revenge against the men who wronged us, she certainly does as well.”

Sylvanas simply stood in silence as she contemplated the idea. Her face still concealed in shadows making the subtle and fleeting expressions on her face unreadable. “It… would certainly make sense,” Sylvanas agreed. “Still, we have no way of knowing if Vereesa would cooperate or simply report us to the other leaders. She may see no reason to agree to this plan if she knows that I’m involved.”

“What do you mean?” Jaina asked confused. “You’re her sister.”

“A sister she may very well wish was dead and not turned into a monstrosity.” Sylvanas retorted, looking at her clawed gauntlet, and the cold dead hands inside of them. “Vereesa may only see me as the twisted shadow of the Sylvanas she knew.”

“Come now, you know that can’t be true,” Jaina said, stepping up from the table and walking towards Sylvanas.

Sylvanas then gave the mage a wry glare. “Perhaps you would be wise not to pass judgement on anything regarding family, Proudmoore.” 

Jaina gave Sylvanas a shocked, almost offended look and opened her mouth to retort. However, no words came out as, despite her reflexive outrage, she knew Sylvanas wasn’t wrong. She had no room to talk about how anyone regarded their family when her own father lied dead and rotting at the bottom of the ocean because of her. She chose to side with the Horde over her own family and was rewarded for her sacrifice with the destruction of all she had built in the name of peace.

“... Fair enough,” Jaina said softly, averting her eyes from Sylvanas.

Sylvanas watched as shame seemed to overtake Jaina. She frowned, internally cursing the ruthless tongue she had ordinarily taken much pride in. As unusual as it was, causing Jaina any grief was not something she took pleasure in. A fact with implications the banshee queen didn’t really like thinking about.

Slowly and unsurely, she placed one hand on Jaina’s shoulder, prompting the mage to look back up at her. “Bring Vereesa with you to the next meeting point if you so wish,” Sylvanas said. “I cannot stop you. I can only advise against potentially sabotaging the plan by introducing too many rogue elements.”

It was then that Jaina allowed something akin to a smile to spread across her face. “You mean like you did when you proposed using the venom to me?”

Sylvanas arched a long brow. “Lady Proudmore… was that snark I heard just now?”

Jaina shrugged. “I suppose it was.”

Sylvanas withdrew her hand from Jaina’s shoulder but gave her a similar smile. “It suits you.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Jaina said with a playful curtsey.

Sylvanas blinked. If she still had blood flowing through her veins, she’d perhaps be blushing. Something about Jaina calling her that left an impact that she didn’t want to think about while simultaneously found intoxicating. Something that was becoming more and more common the more time she spent with Jaina. 

Shaking her head slightly, she turned back to the door to leave once more, stopping for just a moment as she grabbed the handle.

“In any case, I will see you again at the meeting point. Whatever you choose to do, don’t be late. I’m a busy woman … Shorel'aran, Jaina Proudmoore.”

Sylvanas didn’t wait for a response as she slipped out the door and closed it behind her.

Jaina had to resist the urge to reach out for Sylvanas as she left. As difficult and dangerous it was to plan these meetings together, she felt that they had always ended too quickly. For as much time as they spent together, Jaina always found herself wanting more. At first, she rationalized it to herself as wishing for more time to properly plan out their method of finally killing Garrosh. After today, however, she was left wondering if it was in fact just because she wanted more time with Sylvanas.

Initially, the thought seemed ridiculous. Sylvanas was still very much a Horde leader, something Jaina had sworn to want nothing to do with anymore after Theramore. Yet Sylvanas had proven to be different. She wasn’t a power-hungry tyrant like Garrosh, despite what Greymane might have believed. She was not as sanctimonious as Baine, nor as hypocritical as Thrall.

Hell, it felt wrong for Sylvanas to have even been part of the Horde in the first place. All of the Scourge’s victims were Alliance originally. Had the Alliance not turned the Forsaken away when they reached out for new allies, things might have been different.

Jaina took a deep breath as she tried to push such thoughts away. This wasn’t the time to think about that. Bringing Garrosh to justice was the important thing and the only reason this partnership existed.

Nevertheless, Jaina’s thoughts couldn’t help but wander as Sylvanas came to the forefront of her mind. Everything about the Banshee proved… fascinating since they met. Her understanding of Jaina’s despair and anger. Her almost reckless willingness to see Jaina’s revenge made manifest. The surprising gentleness of her hollow yet powerful voice. The unreal level of comfort Jaina found in her embrace back in the Ghostlands. Jaina’s blue eyes happened upon a small bed tucked into the corner of the inn room. Her cheeks swiftly turned pink as her train of thought wandered before she could stop it.

Gently slapping herself, Jaina forced those thoughts to the back of her mind. She swiftly grabbed the two vials Sylvanas had left for her on the table and began weaving a teleportation spell back to Dalaran. The wards she placed over the room would fade by the next morning, leaving no trace of what transpired. Her last thoughts before disappearing from the room were of Sylvanas. Would the two of them go their separate ways after the deed was done and Garrosh was dead? If so, what could Jaina possibly do to keep that from happening? More importantly, WHY did she want to keep that from happening?


	4. Chapter 4

Sylvanas could hear the soft crunching of snow beneath her greaves as she stepped into the grounds of the Temple of the White Tiger. Snow that fell gently all about her thanks to the chilling altitude of the mountainous landscape. She couldn’t feel the chill, of course. Undeath had caused a muting of many of her senses, tactile the most of all. Even the harshest winds of Northrends biting cold only ever felt like a gentle breeze to her. Pleasurable feelings like the touch of another or the feeling of fine silk was next to impossible for her to experience save for a few rare exceptions. Truly the only thing she could reliably feel was pain. Arthas saw to that. Because of such a reality, it was easy for the Banshee Queen to fall into states of numbness. 

But she was feeling far from numb just then.

The trial had taken another intermission after a great deal of talking in circles about the Horde’s actions over the years and whether or not to attribute them to Garrosh. That alone was infuriating. There were very real, very incriminating atrocities that the brute had committed to everyone. Even in these very lands. The fact that they were stretching back as far as the first and second war to try and acquit him was utter madness. Had those blasted dragons not chosen to get involved with their time magic, this could have been over so much faster. How ironic. 

Alas, it was not all the stalling and soliloquy that made Sylvanas seek a moment of quiet solace. That was something she was more than accustomed to, both in life and death. No, the cause of her distress was something she was far less equipped to handle.

Proudmoore was at the trial as well. Of course she was. She was standing closely by the blue whelp Kalec, likely for the sake of keeping up appearances. Since Sylvanas first confronted him within the pavilions of the temple, she could tell the mage’s opinion of her scaled heartthrob had soured tremendously. As close as she stood to him, she never made contact with him. She didn’t talk to him. She barely even looked at him. 

Instead, Proudmoore was looking at her. 

Sylvanas would constantly catch her deep blue eyes looking straight at her from across the room. Despite every silent tell demanding that she keep her gaze focused on literally anything else. Yet every time she did, Proudmoore’s attention was back on her a moment later. Why? 

Did she not understand that there were eyes and ears all around them? Did she not understand that what the two of them were planning was to be treated with the utmost discretion? Was she trying to get the both of them caught? What possible reason could she have to just keep staring at Sylvanas? 

It wasn’t helped by what the Banshee Queen would see whenever she caught Proudmoore’s gandering. Her eyes were wide and glistening with tears that threatened to fall. Her face was one vulnerability and strife. That at least, Sylvanas could understand. She was standing not ten meters from the man who destroyed everything the mage worked for and boasted about it. She could understand Proudmoore just barely managing to hold it together, but that still didn’t explain why she kept looking to  _ her. _

It was overwhelming. She had to get away from those eyes that bore into her. The second the intermission was called, Sylvanas stepped out of that room and made for the grounds at a brisk pace. Perhaps if she could feel the cold around her, it would have soothed the state she was in. Alas, all she could do was be content in her solitude. 

A solitude that did not last as her still keen ears heard someone approaching her from behind. By the pace they set, it seemed as though their matter was urgent. 

“What have you done to her?” she heard Kalec say.

Sylvanas wanted to scream. Even here in this supposed place of sanctuary, she couldn't’ get a single moment to herself. There was always something that seemed committed to aggravating her. As if Fate itself refused to give her even a second of reprieve, which she did not doubt in the slightest.

‘No matter,’ she decided with a habitual exhale through her nostrils. This was Kalecgos. She didn’t need to be cordial with him. If he was so insistent on pestering her, she didn’t need to make it easy for him. She was good at being difficult at least. Taking but a breath to prepare, she turned around and flashed him a mischievous smile. The kind of smile that would always infuriate people to look at. She was quite proud of how effective her smile was. 

“Ah, Kalecgos,” she drawled with the utmost condescension. “Have you stepped out for some fresh air as well? Quite lovely weather, is it not?”

“ _ What have you done to her? _ ” Kalec repeated, already getting riled up at her. 

“Done to who?” Sylvanas asked, feigning innocence. “I’m afraid I’m unclear about the person you’re referring to.” 

“Jaina,” he said emphatically. “Ever since you intruded on the both of us, she’s been different. Colder. I know you are responsible for this.” 

“Responsible? Little old me?” Sylvanas asked, making a show of being shocked. “Whatever in the world gave you such a notion?”

“I know she’s been talking to you,” Kalec sneered. “Since that day, she’s been vanishing without a trace. Not telling anyone where she’s going or where she’s been.” He left out the ways that Jaina was acting distant towards him. How she would barely acknowledge his existence and be quick to dismiss him with a harsh comment. Admitting such things would not look well to the person he was pressing for information. “And just now, she spent the entire trial looking at you. Like she was in a trance!” 

Fuck. He noticed. 

Sylvanas pushed down against the rising frustration she felt towards Proudmoore for her lack of subtlety and simply shrugged at Kalec. “Perhaps she simply finds me fetching,” she said with a wry smirk. “I mean, let’s face the facts. Dead or alive, I am often the loveliest woman in the room.” It wasn’t a statement she truly believed, of course, but she knew such words would often get under the skin of those she was toying with. 

“This isn’t a joking matter, Windrunner,” Kalec huffed, his face contorted with a barely contained rage. “Whatever you are doing to her stops now, or else-” 

“I have not the time nor interest in your accusations and petty threats, wyrm,” Sylvanas interjected, her haunting voice sounding remarkably unimpressed. “What the Archmage decides to do on her own time is none of my concern. All your ‘evidence’ proves is that your relationship with that girl is already one foot in the grave.” 

Kalec balked at her. “Do not pretend to know what Jaina is like, Banshee! You do not know her like I do. She isn’t like you! She is gentle, compassionate and understanding. She listens to me, even when she’s hurt and angry.” The lines of outrage on his face smoothed out as a more wistful air suddenly washed over him. “Whatever’s happening to her, it isn’t the Jaina that I know.” 

Sylvanas openly rolled her eyes. “Yes, and I’m sure comparing her to Arthas had nothing to do with any of that,” she scoffed, inwardly amused by just how quickly the anger returned to the dragon’s face. “It sounds to me that all that’s happened is you are simply reaping what you sowed. I understand that you’re different species, but no woman, regardless of race, appreciates having their experiences belittled. Especially not by self entitled men.” 

Kalec’s nostrils flared as his blue eyes began to see red. “I am trying to keep Jaina from being consumed by her anger. I-”

“Or perhaps, you are trying to make her bury her anger because you don’t want to deal with it. That sounds like the more likely scenario,” Sylvanas interrupted airily “Your earlier praise of Proudmoore is predicated on her being easy to control. When she so much as challenges your word, you decry her as a monster to exploit her guilty conscience. A textbook manipulative tactic.” 

“That’s not wha-” 

“Let me ask you something, oh wise and powerful Aspect of the Blue Dragonflight,” she prompted, folding her arms and narrowing her crimson eyes at Kalec. “How soon after Theramore did the two of you decide to be together?”

Kalec blinked, the question completely throwing him. “What?” was all he had to say for a moment, earning another unimpressed look from the Banshee. “What difference does that make?” 

“It depends,” Sylvanas said plainly. “How soon was it?” 

Kalec was quiet for a moment as his mind combed through memories to the day he and Jaina began their relationship. A part of him asked why he even owed Sylvanas an answer to that question, but he could not fathom what harm it could do to say. “...I suppose it was a week or so,” he replied finally. “I had taken her back to the ruins of Theramore for the sake of closure.” 

The blood red glow behind Sylvanas’ eyes flared briefly. A small tell for when something passionate was surging within her. She did not let any of that emotion show on her face however. Such a brazen tell would not suit her in this discussion. “...So you preyed on her in a moment of vulnerability,” she concluded, doing everything she could to sound more detached from the situation than she truly was. 

Sylvanas’ words once again threw Kalec, but this time the outrage and indignation returned. “I did no such thing!” he sneered. “I gave her comfort in a time of need! I cared for her when she needed it.” 

“And in return she let you get your cock wet?” Sylvanas guessed, the answer to her question arriving when Kalec’s face suddenly went red and he looked away in shame. “Typical,” she scoffed. “If there was ever a sign of your self righteous idiocy, wyrm, this is it.” 

“It… it’s not like that,” he insisted, though far less confidently this time. 

“No, of course not,” she responded with no small amount of sarcasm. “It’s perfectly normal to start a relationship with a woman who is grief stricken and desperate for comfort. There is no stronger foundation on which to build.” 

She watched as Kalec remained absolutely silent. The wind was thoroughly taken out of his sails and he no longer had it within himself to keep arguing. She shook her head at the pitiful display before her and moved to step past him. 

“...I won’t let her become like you,” he said unexpectedly, causing her steps to still. “...No matter what, I won’t let her cling to hatred as you do.” 

Sylvanas turned those words over in her mind for a moment before she shot him a venomous gaze. “If you do anything to deny her the justice she is owed, dragon,” she warned, “she will become  _ exactly  _ like me. Mark my words.” 

With that, she walked back towards the temple and away from Kalec. She hadn’t made it twelve paces before she was inwardly screaming at herself. Yet, she made a risky gambit by publicly defending Proudmoore on her behalf. Simply denying Kalec’s accusations with sharp comments sprinkled throughout would have been more than enough to clear her of suspicion. The situation called for her to be as detached from the very idea of Proudmoore and yet she couldn’t help getting indignant at the dragon’s manipulative tendencies towards the other woman. Why? 

Her thoughts traveled to the gentle words the mage would speak to her in private, during their few secret meetings. She thought of the hug they shared in the Ghostlands, how someone found comfort in her arms despite being undead. She thought of the ways they were so alike and yet so different. She thought of how, for the first time since she last drew breath, an admittedly beautiful woman seemed to enjoy her company. Perhaps those things… those scant moments and even scarcer touches… they were the reason.

Sylvanas prickled, a reflexive fear suddenly taking over her. No. She couldn’t think of such things. She wouldn’t dare. Such thoughts were foolhardy and dangerous. She was looking at things that weren’t really there, clinging to hope. Hope was only ever something that caused her pain and despair since she was raised. She would never rely on it again. No matter what.

* * *

“You cannot be serious,” Vereesa gasped. 

“Why can’t I be?” Jaina asked, folding her arms. “Is what I’m proposing truly so wrong?” 

Vereesa was flabbergasted, unaware that she was stepping away from her friend until the back of her knees made contact with a nearby chair. She all but fell into the seat as even standing seemed like a chore. When she invited the mage into her apartment here in Dalaran when she requested a moment to talk, she could not imagine this was what they would discuss. “Jaina… what you’re suggesting, it… it would sabotage the trial!” 

“To hell with the trial and to hell with those accursed spirits who forced us into it!” Jaina declared. “We can take justice into our own hands and put an end to the bastard that destroyed Theramore. Once and for all. How is that no justice, Vereesa?”

“Do you not understand how risky that would be?” Vereesa countered, frowning at Jaina. “This isn’t like exiling the Sin’dorei from our home! If the others were to find out, there would be grave consequences for the both of us!”

“Then we do it discreetly,” Jaina rationalized, using words that convinced Sylvanas not that long ago. She had not yet told Vereesa of her sister’s involvement in this plan. She wanted to wait until she knew Vereesa was on board. “We could poison him, curse him, teleport him back to Dalaran under everyone’s noses. There’s no shortage of ways we could kill him with no one else finding out. We can do it, Vereesa. I promise you.” 

Vereesa was quiet for a moment, her gaze cast down to her lap as she continued to ponder Jaina’s words. “...You… you really think we can?” she asked. 

“I do.” Jaina knelt down beside Vereesa and smiled warmly at her. “We can avenge everyone who died in Theramore. We can avenge all of Hellscream’s victims and no one will be the wiser.” With the utmost care, she took her friend’s hands into her own and squeezed gently. 

Vereesa still said nothing, but she did meet Jaina’s eyes. Eyes of a friend that mourned everyone they lost in Theramore alongside her. Eyes that shed their fair share of tears just as hers did. Eyes that glowed with power and conviction as they campaigned against Hellscream’s cruel and ruthless Horde. When she looked into those eyes, Vereesa felt like she could do anything. 

“...Jaina…” she whispered, unknowingly drawing closer to her friend. 

“MOM! WE’RE HOME!”

The sudden yelling caused both women to jump as they pulled away from each other and turned to see who was arriving through the door. Girimar and Galadin walked into the living room after they placed their academy rucksacks on a nearby shelf.

“Boys!” Vereesa exclaimed. “Why aren’t the two of you at school?” 

“The teacher sent us home because Galadin wouldn’t stop crying,” Girimar explained before his twin brother suddenly shoved him. 

“Shut up!” Galadin shouted, his eyes red and puffy with freshly shed tears. 

“Hey, hey!” Vereesa interjected, rising from her chair to walk over to the both of them. “None of that in the house!” she kneeled to look at Galadin, who was still sniffling. “Gali,” she prompted, her voice far more gentle than it was a moment ago. “What’s wrong.” 

After a moment longer, Galadin broke down in a wave of new tears. “...I-I miss dad,” he sobbed, suddenly reaching to hug his mother. 

“Oh, darling,” Vereesa whispered, her voice utterly heartbroken and she pulled her son into her arms. “It’s okay. I miss him too.” 

“So do I, but you don’t see me crying about it!” Girimar huffed, folding his arms defiantly. His words were met by Vereesa grabbing by the scruff and pulling him into the same hug. 

“We all grieve differently, Girimar,” she chided gently. “Let your brother cry.” 

Jaina watched the whole exchange in silence. She looked on as Vereesa cooed comforted her boys, a melancholic smile on her face all the while. She couldn’t help but be taken at the sight. Vereesa did everything she could to be a good mother, especially after Rhonin’s death. Not only did the mage respect that, she was honestly a little envious. 

For as long as Jaina could remember, she wanted to be a mother, even when she was a child herself. She had thought such a thing was an inevitability when she was with Arthas, but then the worst came to pass. She had taken to recognizing her apprentice Kinndy as though she were her own daughter, then the poor girl turned to ash in her hands. She and Kalec could not make children of their own, their races too incompatible for it. Perhaps that was for the best. As of late, it was becoming harder to even stomach the sight of him anymore. 

A part of her began to accept that she would likely never experience the true joy of having her own child. Of starting a family. Her life was too fraught with danger and stress for it. So she savored the sight of Vereesa and her children whenever she could. Often, she would visit just to see how her and the boys were doing, help them with their homework and show off flashy spells to entertain them. If it were the closest thing she would ever experience to motherhood in her life, perhaps it would be enough. 

She watched as Vereesa rose back to her feet and guided her sons to their room. Wordlessly, Jaina followed, not wanting to miss a second of this. She kept a reasonable distance as the elven woman ensured her boys were feeling better before she stepped out of their room, closing the door behind her. 

Vereesa let out a weary sigh as she leaned against the door for a moment. Everything had happened so fast just now and she needed a moment to collect her thoughts. 

“They’re good boys,” Jaina prompted, catching Vereesa’s attention. “And they’re lucky to have a mother like you.” 

Vereesa gave her friend a smile before her face fell again. Her attention turned back to her boys. The last remaining family she had. The ones she would do anything to protect. That fact rolled over in her mind for a moment before she approached Jaina, her expression very serious. 

“Jaina… if it were just you and I… if we were the only ones at risk with this plot… I would absolutely say yes,” she began, watching as the smile on Jaina’s face began to fade. “But… my sons are my whole world. I cannot risk them for anything. Not even to avenge Rhonin. I’m sorry… but my answer is no.” 

Jaina felt something seize in her chest. Vereesa’s words stuck her more deeply than she thought they would. She was prepared for the elf to require convincing, but the finality in her words showed that there was nothing to convince. She wouldn’t help her. 

Her pale brow furrowed as she hands shook with a sudden sullenness that surprised even her. “...So, what happens now?” she asked. “Will you tell the others of my intentions? Will you try to stop me?” As much as she might have wanted to, she couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. Vereesa stood by her side through so much, only to say no when it mattered the most.

“No,” Vereesa responded, shaking her head. “Whatever you choose to do, I will not interfere. I do not wish to stop you, but I cannot be a part of this. I’m sorry.” 

Jaina exhaled through her nostrils as she looked away from the other woman. Her trembling hands clenched into fists as she struggled with the anger that swiftly boiled beneath her skin. 

“So be it.” She turned on her heel and made her way to the door. She did not give any words of goodbye and received none in kind. The door did not close gently behind her as she continued to smolder with anger down the halls of the Violet Citadel. 

_ ‘Coward,’ _ was the only word that Jaina could think of, even if she felt terrible for even thinking it. Such a word was the only thing that could apply to this. After everything she and Vereesa had been through, suddenly the slightest possibility of consequences was enough to deter her? Did she think Jaina truly didn’t understand what was on the line. 

She understood perfectly, and she knew that Sylvanas understood too and agreed with her that it was worth the risk. And Sylvanas was risking a lot more than Vereesa would ever have to. She wasn’t just risking two children, but the fate of her entire people. The Forsaken that Jaina came to realize were treated very well by their Queen. Even with that on the line, Sylvanas agreed to help her. Sylvanas wasn’t a coward. Not like her sister.

Soon, the anger suddenly ebbed and Jaina came to a halt. As Sylvanas came to the forefront of her mind, her anger at Vereesa suddenly felt further away. She thought about the woman who was risking so much for her, an Alliance leader, just to help her receive some peace. She recalled the surprisingly valiant way in which she defended her honor against Kalec. She thought about the surprisingly kind words that came from dark, almost villainous looking lips and the playful banter that followed. She thought of the chill that the Banshee Queen gave off when she hugged her. A chill that was not unlike that of the tainted lands they were surrounded by, and yet still different. Not unpleasant, really, but almost comforting. Like it was trying to coax her to rest. 

Jaina sighed wistfully, leaning against the wall of the empty corridor. It was at least half a day before she was due to meet Sylvanas at their agreed upon rendezvous, yet the thought of waiting any longer felt unbearable. For one reason or another, she was struck with an intense, almost painful desire to see her again. 

Such a thing should have alarmed the Archmage. Convince her that she was under a spell. Alas, she knew that Sylvanas did not have that kind of power. Believing in such a thing would mean to believe a lie. There was no spell compelling Jaina to feel this way. The only one to blame for that was herself. It didn’t take long for her to realize what was happening. Perhaps someday, she would even come to terms with it. 

Another melancholic sigh escaped her lips before she pulled away from the wall and began walking to her office. There was time to pine later. She still had preparations to make. 

* * *

“I take it that Vereesa did not see fit to join in our little scheme?” 

Jaina stepped through the broken door of this abandoned house to see that Sylvanas was waiting for her. She saw the Banshee Queen’s crimson gaze fixed upon her as she sat in an especially dark corner. The sight should have frightened her or at least put her on edge. Alas, she had to repress a smile at the rather amusing theatrics of it all. 

“Sadly no,” Jaina said, shaking her head. “But she will not interfere.” 

“Are you certain?” Sylvanas asked, a warning edge to her voice. 

“I’m sure,” Jaina confirmed. “...And I made a decision.”

That got Sylvanas’ attention if the way she leaned forward in her chair was anything to go by. 

“...We’ll go with the poison,” the mage said. “No matter what happens, I want Hellscream dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this story were a musical, this chapter would have featured a duet where Jaina and Sylvanas sing about their feelings from where they are. 
> 
> Also, I'll try not to let the next update take another year.


End file.
